ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴜɴɴʏ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ| Jikook

3

The bunny was getting better.Or so I thought. I’d spent enough time on the farm that I knew a bit about dealing with injuries, but I was far from a vet—or even a vet tech, for that matter. The YouTube videos I watched when the vet Grams used told me just to put the fellow down sight unseen helped a little bit, but it was still a crap shoot.

I had expected Jisung to come over again to see how his bunny was, but he didn’t. I almost stopped by his house to give him an update but then some barking dogs were silenced by a single shotgun fire that was followed by a dog crying...and I thought I might not be welcomed over there. His family was good and fucked up. I had assumed that was the case when he’d stopped by, but there was no denying it after I heard a dog being shot. At least a second shot hadn’t come.

I needed to get that other dog out of there.

And there I was thinking like I owned the place. Which I did, but only long enough to figure things out. I wasn’t planning on staying forever.

Probably.

I had a life back in the city. Sure, no one would describe it as exciting, but I had a small group of friends and a routine I enjoyed. That was something.

“Hey, little one.” I gently patted the bunny’s head. It wasn’t a good idea to pet wild animals, but he did better when I touched him. It was weird. Like my petting him gave him comfort. It was probably more wish fulfillment for my actions to do some good.

“I need to go check on the horses and the pig.” I stroked his head again. “I’ll be back, though. I promise.”

He looked up at me and moved his head in a way that could have almost been taken as nodding in agreement.

I had so many chores still to do before the night fell. I pulled on my muck boots, grabbed my work gloves that lived in the mud room, and headed out. When I first came to the farm, I saw this as what it was—a huge chore. But now that I was in a routine, it was more like taking care of my family.

Which was not good.

I needed to leave soon.

I had a career.

And a home—or place to live, anyway.

“Oh, Grams,” I spoke aloud as I headed to the barn. The horses were out in their pen, so I took the time to clean out their stalls and make sure they had fresh water and food. They would be at the barn entrance as soon as they heard the latch click, looking for their dinner. I’d been really impressed the first time I saw Grams do that, thinking that rounding up the horses would be a hot mess.

“You watch too many movies,” she teased. “These ain’t no rodeo animals. They’re pets, and what do pets love more than anything?”

“Their owner?” I guessed.

“Wrong.” She made a sound like a buzzer going off. “They like to eat. They know it’s food time.”

She had been right, of course. She always had been. Although, in a way, she’d been wrong too. The animals on this farm mourned her loss. Daisy the pig came looking for her every day as if she would magically appear. Hen the goose honked where her car used to be parked. The cat meowed on her chair on the porch and once in a while on her kitchen stool.

Those animals loved and missed her.

So did I.

Sure enough, the horses came trodding in one at a time, walking straight into their stalls as soon as they heard me. They had been brushed already, but Becca, the miniature horse, only ate while being brushed. Thankfully, being a mini made that a doable task. I closed the stalls one at a time until I got to hers. She stood there by the hay, just waiting for me.

“Spoiled girl.” I picked up her brush and began to groom her. She immediately started eating. “You know, not everyone would be willing to do this for you.” As I spoke the words out loud, I heard the truth in them. When I sold the farm, I would need to rehome her to the right person.

The vet had told Grams that Becca would eat eventually. The poor thing was already underweight, the result of someone who thought it would be super fun to have a horse they could bring in the house and then realized horses were work and that they smelled. Grams ignored his advice, and when he came back the next visit excited about her progress, Grams, according to her version of her story, told him that was what food would do to you and walked away.

Knowing her, she probably filtered that story for me and there were likely some choice cuss words in there as well.

Once the horses were done, I went to deal with Daisy. She seriously thought she was a dog, and unlike the horse, had free rein of the property. I walked over to her pig house, one designed for a dog complete with the word Dog on the front wall.

A sharp whistle had Daisy running over. “Silly pig. You want dinner.”

While feeding the pig, my mind kept wandering back to that poor bunny and then to the asshole next door. It was none of my business. I knew this. I had no proof he did anything wrong to the boy, but as far as I was concerned, a man who killed dogs was never too far from abusing humans.

“Eat up, Daisy.” I closed her small enclosure, something I only did at night, and peeked in to make sure the goose was fine. The fowl didn’t like to be bothered, so I tried to stay away from them. The only one she seemed to like was the cat. Even still, their visits were only long enough to boss her around. Those two were quite the pair.

My stomach began to rumble.

“Guess it’s time to feed myself too. Night, guys,” I called to them all, talking to them like they were family. Just like Grams had always done.

Leaving them was going to be hard.

😳 two updates in one day 🎉